“It will be for a while; possibly forever. I don’t know what sort of spells you’re accustomed to, but if your world was anything like mine, there’s an irritating capability gap here. Magic is harder to execute, and it drains you faster.”
Is there a faint pang of jealousy over this other Stephen Strange she knew, who presumably wasn’t limited in the same way? Maybe. Besides the Sling Ring, Strange finds that he misses the telekinesis most: fine control, handwriting, being able to tie his own tie.
But he’s gotten in the habit of stubbornly reminding himself not to think about it, not to disappear down that spiral of imagining these other worlds. He is what he is and it is what it is. Looking too far afield in envy leads to—
(to living alone in an empty universe, a sallow haggard face and unshaven beard and unkempt hair, searching for a version of himself who might be happy, and who has Christine)
So. Don’t look too far.
“You don’t have to literally write it down; I’ll remember. What’s Apparition? Can you still do it here?” he asks, genuine interest piquing his voice. This wasn’t actually the point of the intake visit, the Head Healer does have other topics he needs to go over with her, but— first, magic. The man’s got priorities.
On one hand, yes - magic is harder to execute and drains her faster. Not everything does, but she hasn't set to experimenting with spells and endurance, or effectiveness of each spell - but this is early days, so give her time.
What she does know is that Apparition is limited, likely because she doesn't know this world. Doesn't know where to Apparate, so of course she's limited to line of sights.
On the other hand, it's also just easier to show him than tell him. So she takes a hold of her wand, and as easily as breathing - practice makes perfect, after all - she Apparates. To Stephen, it will look like a folding into nothingness, of sorts, and then a reappearance on the other side of the room in one piece.
"That is." She walks back to her seat. "But it's severely limited at the moment. I was able to do that from London to the Forest of Dean once, with people tagging along for the ride. I suspect a lot of it has to do with my newness here."
Strange doesn’t make a noise, or jolt, or yelp, but he immediately straightens up in his seat and leans forward in fascination. Locked in. “Oh, that’s— I’m jealous, I used to be able to— but of course you knew that already. I don’t have a Sling Ring here, so no portals for me.”
London to the Forest of Dean. Rueful: He used to be able to take people off-planet.
“What you just did looks similar to the way local mages step through the Fade for short distances, which might be exactly what you’re doing— fascinating, I’d like to watch you practice that sometime, if you don’t mind.” Later, he will run Hermione through Apparition drills, watching her technique over and over, trying to piece it together. That hook lodging on the Fade. The way reality folds around her.
How to reproduce it himself, someday.
“That said, sorry to break it to you, but I don’t know of any mage here at all who can do anything cross-continental. It’s like… our will directly warps reality using the Fade. But that means needing to be physically present to do it. Your weight and exertion on the Fade, pulling on it, to make your intentions real. The further away you are, the harder or near-impossible it is. Regretfully.”
It’s not to get her to stop trying or to quash her hopes; it’s to realistically temper expectations.
Of course he doesn't jolt or yelp, she's seen the portals - if anything, he's probably interested in figuring out how her Apparition works and how it differs from whatever it is that he can do, because he's a curious man.
She will be able to appreciate being correct in guessing his reaction, when he leans forward.
"I have been locked in short-distance Apparition for some years now, Dr Stranger, I've grown more than used to it," she admits, with a small shrug. "One learns to deal with one's circumstances, even when they're dire. Especially if one is really stubborn about being skilled at magic." Here, a tiny smile, self-deprecating. She's giving him a truth, one she won't likely give anyone else.
"That said, you are more than welcome to observe." And study her, and train her, mentor her, whatever he would like. She's going to be hungry for progression.
That will be in the future. For now, "But what...um. This induction, what is it?"
Really stubborn about being skilled at magic is like hearing an echo of himself, and it makes Strange crack a smile.
“Induction makes it sound like I’m bringing you into a cult. It’s just some paperwork and an initial consultation like I’m your GP.” He reaches for the stack, and slides Hermione a piece of paper: a quill and a single sheet, the questions neatly printed in handwriting not his own.
“Fill that out for me. I know some of it might not be very applicable since you’re so new — emergency contacts and such — but the more important part is getting it on-record if you have any existing medical issues, or any burial preferences. They typically do pyres here. Prevents demons possessing your corpse.”
"There is something vaguely cult-like about the Chantry, though," she points out with a small smile of her own, but takes the form without hesitation. "Though maybe all forms of organised religion are."
After a shrug, she casts her gaze over the form, a knot forming in her stomach. Emergency contact? Funeral rites of preference? God, she's going to die here. Assuming she hasn't already died, and this is just her soul manifesting into Thedas - but no, why would she have died, the war was over.
Deep breaths. Stephen Strange is being laissez-faire about the form, and therefore she must follow his example. Pure pragmatism now, mental breakdown later while in quarantine.
A bark of a laugh at the dig at organised religion, since Strange can sincerely relate: “They sure are. I’ve had to bite my tongue so many times, devotion is so much more prevalent here.”
He remains politely quiet while she works on the form. Sorry about the impending panic attack, Hermione; he’s truly not the most reassuring man, even if he tries.
“Yep. Feel free to stop by the infirmary to amend the details anytime.” He cranes his head to read the answers upside-down after she’s done. “… Time travel?”
There's the trick to get her panic attack to subside: engage her brain. Her gaze lifts to Stephen's and there's a flicker of a smile before she nods. "A few theories, while I was there, was that we kept moving through different ages. Maybe because so much of the culture and - frankly, the fashion and technology - of each place we stopped in for long enough kept being so different. Have you ever experienced that? In Thedas, for instance? One country will have steam-powered trains and electricity, and the clothes will look like something out of the 1920s, while others will look practically medieval."
She carries on without waiting for the answer, "There was time travel prior to that place, though. For about a year, in school, I had a Time Turner. It's a singular time travelling device, which when spun took you back in time for as many hours as you twisted the hourglass. I used it to attend all my classes, and before you comment on that, yes. I know it's demented, I have been informed before."
Another smile (two in the span of five minutes, congratulations Hermione). And perhaps Stephen Strange might be just as demented, because he says: “To the contrary, I was about to say I’d probably have done the same thing. I did my MD/PhD simultaneously. And when I first started my sorcery training, I used astral projection in my sleep so my spirit could keep studying while my physical body was unconscious, which I just saw as a colossal waste of time— but it sounds like you might actually have me beat on the multitasking front.”
For all her preexisting familiarity with him, he’s starting to feel that comfortable flicker in turn: encountering a kindred spirit, a fellow over-achiever. He leans back in his seat.
“Thedas is a little bit like that, but more due to isolationism and culture, as you mention, and particularly their attitudes toward magic. Without magic at all, dwarves have gone in on mechanical inventions and steam and their crafts are more technologically advanced than the rest. Tevinter, due to investing more in magic, has more enchanted marvels to make day-to-day life easier. The other nations lag a little behind, from what I can tell.”
Which might be a casually brutally judgmental way of putting it, but. She’s not from here, it’s fine.
“Where you were— They didn’t have a standardised calendar to tell you what age you were in?”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Is there a faint pang of jealousy over this other Stephen Strange she knew, who presumably wasn’t limited in the same way? Maybe. Besides the Sling Ring, Strange finds that he misses the telekinesis most: fine control, handwriting, being able to tie his own tie.
But he’s gotten in the habit of stubbornly reminding himself not to think about it, not to disappear down that spiral of imagining these other worlds. He is what he is and it is what it is. Looking too far afield in envy leads to—
(to living alone in an empty universe, a sallow haggard face and unshaven beard and unkempt hair, searching for a version of himself who might be happy, and who has Christine)
So. Don’t look too far.
“You don’t have to literally write it down; I’ll remember. What’s Apparition? Can you still do it here?” he asks, genuine interest piquing his voice. This wasn’t actually the point of the intake visit, the Head Healer does have other topics he needs to go over with her, but— first, magic. The man’s got priorities.
no subject
What she does know is that Apparition is limited, likely because she doesn't know this world. Doesn't know where to Apparate, so of course she's limited to line of sights.
On the other hand, it's also just easier to show him than tell him. So she takes a hold of her wand, and as easily as breathing - practice makes perfect, after all - she Apparates. To Stephen, it will look like a folding into nothingness, of sorts, and then a reappearance on the other side of the room in one piece.
"That is." She walks back to her seat. "But it's severely limited at the moment. I was able to do that from London to the Forest of Dean once, with people tagging along for the ride. I suspect a lot of it has to do with my newness here."
no subject
London to the Forest of Dean. Rueful: He used to be able to take people off-planet.
“What you just did looks similar to the way local mages step through the Fade for short distances, which might be exactly what you’re doing— fascinating, I’d like to watch you practice that sometime, if you don’t mind.” Later, he will run Hermione through Apparition drills, watching her technique over and over, trying to piece it together. That hook lodging on the Fade. The way reality folds around her.
How to reproduce it himself, someday.
“That said, sorry to break it to you, but I don’t know of any mage here at all who can do anything cross-continental. It’s like… our will directly warps reality using the Fade. But that means needing to be physically present to do it. Your weight and exertion on the Fade, pulling on it, to make your intentions real. The further away you are, the harder or near-impossible it is. Regretfully.”
It’s not to get her to stop trying or to quash her hopes; it’s to realistically temper expectations.
no subject
She will be able to appreciate being correct in guessing his reaction, when he leans forward.
"I have been locked in short-distance Apparition for some years now, Dr Stranger, I've grown more than used to it," she admits, with a small shrug. "One learns to deal with one's circumstances, even when they're dire. Especially if one is really stubborn about being skilled at magic." Here, a tiny smile, self-deprecating. She's giving him a truth, one she won't likely give anyone else.
"That said, you are more than welcome to observe." And study her, and train her, mentor her, whatever he would like. She's going to be hungry for progression.
That will be in the future. For now, "But what...um. This induction, what is it?"
no subject
“Induction makes it sound like I’m bringing you into a cult. It’s just some paperwork and an initial consultation like I’m your GP.” He reaches for the stack, and slides Hermione a piece of paper: a quill and a single sheet, the questions neatly printed in handwriting not his own.
“Fill that out for me. I know some of it might not be very applicable since you’re so new — emergency contacts and such — but the more important part is getting it on-record if you have any existing medical issues, or any burial preferences. They typically do pyres here. Prevents demons possessing your corpse.”
He sounds astoundingly laissez-faire about it.
no subject
After a shrug, she casts her gaze over the form, a knot forming in her stomach. Emergency contact? Funeral rites of preference? God, she's going to die here. Assuming she hasn't already died, and this is just her soul manifesting into Thedas - but no, why would she have died, the war was over.
Deep breaths. Stephen Strange is being laissez-faire about the form, and therefore she must follow his example. Pure pragmatism now, mental breakdown later while in quarantine.
"I'm assuming I'll have to refill this as it changes?" she asks, writing her quick answers already.
no subject
He remains politely quiet while she works on the form. Sorry about the impending panic attack, Hermione; he’s truly not the most reassuring man, even if he tries.
“Yep. Feel free to stop by the infirmary to amend the details anytime.” He cranes his head to read the answers upside-down after she’s done. “… Time travel?”
no subject
She carries on without waiting for the answer, "There was time travel prior to that place, though. For about a year, in school, I had a Time Turner. It's a singular time travelling device, which when spun took you back in time for as many hours as you twisted the hourglass. I used it to attend all my classes, and before you comment on that, yes. I know it's demented, I have been informed before."
no subject
For all her preexisting familiarity with him, he’s starting to feel that comfortable flicker in turn: encountering a kindred spirit, a fellow over-achiever. He leans back in his seat.
“Thedas is a little bit like that, but more due to isolationism and culture, as you mention, and particularly their attitudes toward magic. Without magic at all, dwarves have gone in on mechanical inventions and steam and their crafts are more technologically advanced than the rest. Tevinter, due to investing more in magic, has more enchanted marvels to make day-to-day life easier. The other nations lag a little behind, from what I can tell.”
Which might be a casually brutally judgmental way of putting it, but. She’s not from here, it’s fine.
“Where you were— They didn’t have a standardised calendar to tell you what age you were in?”